"Not much." He turns back to the list, shoulders hunched as though he could hide what he's writing.

"I mean it, though. I am sorry. Especially since it kinda was actually my fault? I called it wrong, I figured for sure he'd stick it out with you."

Andrew's fingers close hard on the pen. "Did you want something?"

She laughs. "What? I told you I'd be back. But listen, if this isn't a good time I can always come back later."

"Yeah," he says to the paper. "Do that. Please."

A pause, and then sounding pleased: "Well, since you ask so nicely. Sure. Just -- one thing before I go?" She pauses, and then when he doesn't respond goes on, her tone shading into concern: "Don't ... don't let it get to you, okay? If he's not gonna be there when you need him, he doesn't deserve you."

Silence. Andrew waits, then slowly lets a breath trickle out.

Then freezes, as his own voice breathes wickedly into his ear: "He deserves me."